


The Book of Days

by Topaz_Eyes



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gift Fic, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-22
Updated: 2006-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is our choices that define us, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fleshdress](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fleshdress).



> Introductory lines from "Breathe (2 AM)" by Anna Nalick, copyright 2005 (Anna Nalick and Sony Music). Dedicated to the lovely [](http://fleshdress.livejournal.com/profile)[**fleshdress**](http://fleshdress.livejournal.com/) on the occasion of her birthday! This originally appeared in [](http://community.livejournal.com/fleshylove/profile)[**fleshylove**](http://community.livejournal.com/fleshylove/). Thank you to [](http://jazzypom.livejournal.com/profile)[**jazzypom**](http://jazzypom.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Much thanks and love to [](http://aillil.livejournal.com/profile)[**aillil**](http://aillil.livejournal.com/) for the Latin translations!

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout  
'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out--_

_And these mistakes you make you'll just make them again  
If you only try turning around..._

Late February in the Hebrides was always cold, but this particular day was sunny and bright, offsetting its pervasive chill. For Remus it seemed to bode well for the negotiations with the Kelpies currently in progress. From what Remus had been able to glean from the younger members of the clans, the Kelpies had already been contacted by Voldemort's Death Eaters. But the leader of the clans herself seemed to have a soft spot for Dumbledore. The fact they'd stayed out of the last war was promising enough to try to convince them to stay out of this one, which was why Remus Lupin was here.

The meeting with the Kelpie clans was going somewhat better than expected though the talks were still delicate at this stage. Remus wandered off from the main circle after a short break was called; he leaned against the rough-hewn stone wall fencing off the loch and pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. He stood in the muted winter daylight, his face raised to the wan February sun, grateful for the faint warmth and the brief lull in the proceedings. Kelpies were truly beautiful creatures in their own way; even in human form they retained the exquisite grace of their equine bearings—and being a Dark creature himself, he could understand them better than most.

He started as a brief shimmer in front of him caught his eye. Remus blinked, then looked up to see a human-sized silver chameleon staring at him with a sense of urgency.

It was a chameleon—_it was Tonks_, he realized--sending a message through her Patronus.

Remus felt his muscles tense. Seeing a Patronus was never a good sign, for it meant one of two things: Dementors, or an urgent message from the Order. Neither of which were particularly welcome at the best of times.

_Remus, you must come back to Headquarters now. _

The voice was low and nervous, though the chameleon did not speak; rather Tonks' voice projected from it directly into his mind. It was, all in all, a brilliant means of covert communication; anyone who witnessed them might think the Patronus was simply an odd effect of the sun bouncing off the burrs of the stone: a trick of the light, a sundog flare, a passing hiccup of shadow.

Remus regarded the silver chameleon uneasily. _What's happened, Tonks? _ His lips did not move; rather he answered telepathically. Tonks back at Grimmauld Place would hear him and relay the message as needed. He kept his mental voice calm and even. No point in appearing too anxious, yet.

_I can't explain, just please get here._ The chameleon's gleaming eyes widened with fear. _Dumbledore is waiting for you. We all are. Please, Remus! You must hurry, now, before it's too late. _Please_ hurry._

The Patronus dissolved, shimmering, into the surrounding air, leaving Remus blinking with the sudden accompanying flash of light.

He stared at the blank spot where the chameleon had stood, his mind racing; then his heart sank with sick realization. The only thing that Dumbledore would bother to bring Remus back to Headquarters for, in the middle of this critical mission, was--

_Oh fuck. _

_ Sirius._

All conscious thought shut down; automated responses took over. He dared not even think about what Sirius might have done at this point. Quickly he strode back to the meeting, hurried excuses for leaving already half-forming on his lips.

The Kelpie leader simply nodded when Remus begged her forgiveness, explaining that Dumbledore required his presence at once, and he promised he would return as soon as he could. Only when he was free of the Kelpie clans and plunging headlong through the bramble towards the highway did he Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, still running.

Twelve Grimmauld Place appeared out of nowhere, the front steps shimmering as the house shoved Numbers Eleven and Thirteen out of the way to grow into its place. Surprised he hadn't Splinched himself he flew up the stairs, stabbing his wand at the door locks, only barely half-listening for the tumblers to slide.

Once he ran into the entrance hall the hideous monstrosity that was Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming at him.

"YOU! Filthy worthless HALF-BREED, unnatural beast who buggers my only son at every chance--!"

Remus' fine hold on courtesy snapped. "SHUT UP!" he roared, whirling around and pointing his wand at the hag's visage. A fierce yellow bolt flared from his wand and yanked the velvet curtains shut. However he had no time to stop and savor the ensuing silence; he fled down the stairs three at a time.

The Order members were rising from the table to file out of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place just as Remus arrived at the door, stumbling over the threshold panting and clutching a stitch at his side. Kingsley Shacklebolt met him at the door, frowning in concern but saying nothing as he strode past. Tonks looked terrified, her over-bright violet eyes wide in her pinched heart-shaped face. As she passed Remus she touched his arm and whispered plaintively, "You have to save him Remus, please save him."

Remus' heart jumped to his throat. _Save him?_

_Save Sirius?_

O_h dear Merlin what in hell was going on_\--?

The other Order members stared at him with various shades of veiled curiosity and outright fear on their way out. Even Snape's normally fathomless black eyes held an undercurrent of worry; his customary sneer was only weak at best. "In Merlin's name Lupin, if you don't talk some sense into Black this time--" he muttered under his breath as he swept by.

The room emptied until only Remus and Albus Dumbledore remained in the basement kitchen.

They stood at opposite ends of the kitchen in the dank silence, one lone torch illuminating the space between and casting flickering patterns on the battered long table. Dumbledore sighed heavily and Remus gazed at his former Headmaster in growing alarm. Up to now Dumbledore had always embodied a calm and steady strength. But now in the mottled shadow, Dumbledore appeared to stoop a bit, even tremble; he looked worn and infinitely tired, Remus thought numbly, as if he were at a loss himself, to know what to do. Normally Dumbledore appeared to emit his own sustaining light, that could cut through the gloom anywhere. The customary twinkle in his blue eyes was now feeble, almost extinguished; _the same way he'd regarded Remus over fourteen years ago when he'd told Remus his world had ended, _Remus thought wildly, and he fought the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to steel himself for the inevitable.

Incongruently, Remus thought that that November first had dawned brilliantly sunny just like today; and that bad news never came on gloomy days as it should. He forced himself to push that down, and automatically reached for the edge of the table to steady himself.

He regarded Dumbledore with barely-controlled fear and choked back the bile rising in his throat. "Headmaster? What's happened to Sirius--?"

Dumbledore sighed again, world-weary, then spoke softly without preamble.

"Sirius has opened a Book of Days, Remus."

Remus blinked, not comprehending at first. "A--a Book of Days?"

He blinked again, until a far memory echoed in his head, from his seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, the disembodied voice of the professor intoning: "The Book of Days is one of the most potent, and most dangerous, magical artifacts known to Wizarding kind. It is part Time-Turner, part Mirror of Erised, part Horcrux. It is ancient magic, forbidden knowledge to all but the few learned wizards who study its workings in the Department of Mysteries." He remembered scribbling the notes down as quickly as he can, his quill point scratching furiously on his parchment; he recalled Sirius lounging beside him, all angled limbs and careless grace, chewing absently on his quill.

Remus closed his eyes against the long-ago words, knowledge dawning. "Oh dear Merlin--" A chill clenched at his heart and he shivered.

Dumbledore's soft voice jolted Remus back to the present. "To open a Book of Days is a grave matter," he intoned, his voice replacing that of the professor in his memory. "One cannot be opened unless the circumstance is of life-altering importance. The Book knows. But the Book is also cruel and unforgiving. Once opened, a Book of Days cannot be closed by any but the Reader who opens it, at the Reader's sacrifice." Dumbledore pierced Remus with his gaze. "Sirius has somehow acquired a Book of Days in his possession and, sadly, has intuited how to use it."

Dumbledore's voice echoed in the damp silence. Remus' eyes widened. "Headmaster, how? I don't--"

Dumbledore bowed his head, looking away for a moment. "Sirius Black is one of the most brilliant wizards of his generation," he murmured under his breath, as if to himself. "Could I have been wrong to refuse--?" Then he looked up, as if startled to find Remus watching him with odd intensity. His voice firmed, his puzzled features quickly schooled into a shade of concerned purpose, his clear blue gaze boring into Remus' eyes again with grave intensity. "It does not matter how he acquired it. What matters is that he must be stopped. You must stop him, dear boy."

Remus nodded, still somewhat confused. "Yes, yes of course--but how? How does a Book of Days work? How did he get it? How can I stop--?" The words tumbled out.

"How Sirius obtained a Book of Days is unimportant," Dumbledore repeated. "What is crucial is that you stop him as soon as you can. The Book of Days is a diary of endless possibility. Like the Mirror of Erised it shows the Reader his heart's desire. Unlike the Mirror, it allows the reader to attain it."

With this Dumbledore strode around the table to meet Remus. He took Remus' hand, squeezing it with surprising strength and warmth. "A Book of Days is blank until the Reader opens it, Remus. It tailors itself to the Reader. And it cannot just be opened. To open it, requires several perfectly worded incantations. One wrong word and the book remains sealed. But once opened, it reveals the Reader's past—in its pages it shows the Reader where he may have gone wrong in his choices, so it allows the Reader to go back to points in his life to re-live, to choose again."

Remus blinked. "But why is that considered forbidden knowledge--? To have a second chance to correct our past mistakes--"

Dumbledore sighed again. "We have but one life to live, Remus. Only one life. We may only ever choose once, and thereafter must live with the consequences of that choice. True second chances are very rare and often unrecognizable as such. What is worse, the Book cannot show how one chose wrongly. It can only ever show where. And it does not show the root choice, only the proximate one. If one chooses to fix the wrong choice, that is not the root cause of the other choices, the outcome is almost always worse than what the Reader expects or even wants. That is what makes The Book of Days both a tempting, and an ultimately dangerous illusion."

Remus nodded, only half-understanding.

"When the Reader who opens a Book of Days closes it again, with the proper incantations, his soul is written into its pages. The Book rewrites itself from the point of the choice as it sets history in motion."

Remus nodded, remembering that fact too. "Like a Horcrux?"

"Not precisely. A Horcrux splits the soul. The piece of the soul may be recovered from a Horcrux and integrated back with the whole. But in a Book of Days, the entire soul is written into the Book. The Reader's soul resides in the Book for all time, never to return. Not only that, but our reality, our world—changes forever, according to the Reader's ultimate choice."

Dumbledore regarded Remus with a mixture of pity and hope, squeezing Remus' hand so tightly it hurt. "Surely you can see, why we cannot allow it, my boy. Such power to change the future--We cannot allow Sirius to continue on his journey. To allow him to follow through with the Book, to follow his heart and not his head—will change our world forever as we know it. And experience shows—" here Dumbledore looked away, an odd shadow crossing his face, "that the change made is almost always for the worse. Things must always fall as they will."

Remus stared, slack-jawed at Dumbledore, trying to put the pieces together. To go back, to go back in time and change a wrong choice—he tried to banish the possibilities from his mind. To save James, and Lily. To stop Peter—

He closed his eyes. Yes of course Sirius would do that. He would do anything to save James and Lily if he could. If he believed it was the right thing to do he would risk everything and everyone--

Dumbledore's voice started him out of his reverie. "We cannot allow it, Remus. Once we make our choice, we cannot go back and change it, as tempting as it is. We must live with it. We cannot afford Sirius to think with his heart and not with his head. We cannot afford him to change our present. We cannot afford the almost inevitable likelihood of his making the wrong choice."

Remus clutched at the table then, and lowered himself heavily into the nearest chair. _The wrong choice.._. The words tumbled around in his head, the meaning still not quite clear. Dumbledore sat down at the other end and watched Remus earnestly, hands folded on the table.

"You know as much as I do, how important Sirius is to Harry," Dumbledore said gently.

Remus looked away, trying, and failing, to squash a bitter resentment. "Is that the only thing that matters, Headmaster? Sirius doesn't count for himself?"

Dumbledore gazed at him, not flinching at the rebuke. "Sirius always has counted, Remus. But for now Harry needs him here, safe and sound, as his anchor. We cannot underestimate his importance to Harry in this world, in this timeline, the only one that matters--"

Remus met his gaze, his mouth twisting, feeling not a little bitter. Everything always came to Harry, as it should, he knew that, but he couldn't help feeling more than a twinge of anger at it either. Harry's importance meant Sirius' imprisonment, in more ways than one.

But he also knew there was no other way.

"How do I stop him then?"

Dumbledore nodded, relieved. "You know him best of all of us, Remus, you will know when the time comes. At any rate, you must convince Sirius to close and destroy the Book. To continue to live in this world and to stay here, in any way you can." His eyes and voice softened. "By any means at your disposal, my boy. Any means."

Remus gaped in shock. "Headmaster--?" he said, his mind whirling. _He knows, how long has he known--?_

"You must make Sirius understand—he cannot change the past. Even if he believes it for the best. He must learn to accept that what's done is done. You must make that clear to him."

Remus cocked his head. "But what makes you think he will listen to me? In the face of this--"

"He always has listened to you, my boy. There's no one else he will listen to anymore, save Harry. And Harry—well, Harry is not ready to face that part of his past yet. Only you, who have shared in that part of Sirius' life, can understand the reason why he cannot persist in this action, as heartbreaking as it will be for you to do it."

Dumbledore's words swelled to fill the room and washed over Remus, and he sighed. "I understand," he said finally.

"Thank you, my boy. I know this won't be easy for you."

"But it's not about what is easy." Remus couldn't hide the weary tinge in his voice.

Dumbledore answered with just as tired a smile. "No, lad. It never is. It's always about what is right."

~~~~~

Remus climbed the spiraling staircase to the top floor of the townhouse, guttering candle and wand in his hand. Dumbledore had Disapparated from Grimmauld Place to his own spot in hiding, thereby leaving the townhouse completely deserted save for its usual occupants. Thankfully Kreacher was nowhere to be found.

The attic of Twelve Grimmauld Place was reached through a set of rickety wooden stairs at the opposite end of the hallway, hidden behind a curtained partition. The door itself was a trap door cut through the ceiling, the boundaries of which were cleverly hidden within the ceiling planks. It was a secret attic; only those who knew how to find the door, were able to get up there.

Remus knew the attic well--dusty, draughty, full of old artifacts draped with mildewing sheets, it was one of Sirius' hideouts in the house when he wasn't feeling sociable and did not want to hang out with Buckbeak. He reached up to test the trap door. He had no doubt that Sirius would have sealed it if he did not want to be disturbed; sure enough, when he pointed his wand at the door he immediately saw the shimmering criss-cross of wards across it.

Remus cursed under his breath. Sirius was obviously intent on not being interrupted in his task, as judged by the intricacy of the web. He set about untangling it as quickly as possible, murmuring the counter-charms as quickly as possible. It took several painstaking minutes to dismantle; fear nibbled at the edges of his patience but he resisted blowing the wards apart, knowing Sirius would have thought of that too. All the time he prayed to Merlin and a God he'd long stopped believing in, that he wouldn't be too late.

The door gave way slightly as the last ward disappeared. Pushing up and opening the door, he stuck his head into the attic. Regret weighing heavy in his heart for what he was about to do to his only remaining friend, Remus slowly climbed the rest of the way through the hatch to stand on the dusty wooden floor. A cloud wafted up from his feet, settling in his nose, and he coughed slightly to clear it.

Sirius stood at the other end of the small attic space behind a moldering lectern (Remus remembered Sirius describing it when he talked about his tutoring lessons with Regulus) with an ancient, tattered book splined open on the top. He was murmuring something that Remus couldn't hear. He looked up when Remus cleared his throat, and his pale grey eyes darkened and narrowed.

"Did Dumbledore send you to stop me?" he said bluntly.

Remus stopped short. _Bollocks_.

"I came to stop you, yes," Remus replied slowly. "Sirius, I know and understand what you're trying to do--"

"Good. Then you can bugger off and let me do it."

"No I can't."

Sirius glowered at him. "Oh really?"

Remus narrowed his eyes in turn. "You know better--"

His voice died as Sirius pointed his wand at him, aiming a Silencing charm before he could raise his own wand to deflect it. He opened his mouth but no more words came out. Sirius jabbed his wand at him again, and Remus was frozen in place, rooted to the floor. All Remus could do was glare.

"It's not your or Dumbledore's call anymore, Remus," Sirius snapped. He bowed his head, hovering his wand over the Book. He uttered words Remus did not initially recognize. _"O liber dierum potentissime, monstra mihi bivium delectionis."_

Remus watched with morbid fascination as the Book begin to glow with an ethereal golden light.

_"Aperi."_

The whole room filled with both a warm burnished radiance and a low hum, making Remus' eyes water and ears buzz; he squeezed his eyes closed to clear them. When the light dimmed and the hum vanished, Remus opened his eyes again--

To utter a silent gasp as he saw the translucent forms of Lily holding baby Harry, James and Sirius—all so young and healthy and _oh Dear Merlin alive--_sitting in their living room at their East End flat.

Gaping at the scene, so shimmering and peaceful, full of light not shadow, hope not dread, he found himself fighting the urge to reach out to pump James' hand, to tickle Harry's chin and kiss Lily on the cheek, to—to put his arms around Sirius and apologise for not believing--

In the last few days leading up to Halloween 1981, in the swirling storm of suspicion, Sirius had abruptly moved out of their shared flat and moved in with James, Lily and Harry. Remus, away at the time, did not know about it until he returned from one of Dumbledore's missions the day after Halloween, the day after everything had happened, to find the locks changed and his meagre possessions haphazardly boxed and sitting outside the flat. No note, no explanation. He'd been forced to stay on with Arthur and Molly and their growing brood of Weasleys.

Then, of course, he hadn't known of James and Sirius' decision to invoke the Fidelius charm using Peter as the Secret Keeper. When he learned of it, all the hints fell neatly into place and confirmed his suspicion that Sirius was the spy they'd all suspected.

And oh dear Merlin, he'd been satisfied with that assessment for twelve long and lonely years.

Remus stared at the scene before him. Sirius had never discussed the night he and James had chosen the Secret Keeper. Remus of course had never been there. He had always wondered but never pressed, knowing how much guilt Sirius held over that decision. Now he was going to witness the truth as it happened. He stole a glance at Sirius across the room (who had lived it once already), who was watching the scene unfold in front of him intently as well; Remus did not miss Sirius reaching out a trembling hand, as if to flick James' messy fringe off his face.

~~~~~

Dumbledore had left the Potters' flat after explaining what he wanted them to do to protect Harry, leaving three stunned young people in his wake.

"So what are we going to do?" Lily asked, voice tight with controlled terror, jiggling a fretful Harry on her lap. Harry was teething and had an earache. She stared at each of James and Sirius in turn, her green eyes wide.

James, who had been prowling restlessly around the room, sank beside Lily on the sofa and ran his hands yet again through his shock of messy hair. "We have to perform the Fidelius, obviously," he replied. "No choice there. Choose a Secret Keeper, go in hiding, oh dear Merlin what have we gotten into--?" He buried his face in his hands.

"Well, Dumbledore should be the Secret Keeper then," Lily stated. She stood up and began to walk around the room herself, whispering "Hush, sshh popkins it's OK" in Harry's good ear.

"Dumbledore?" Young Sirius turned around from the fireplace, where he had been staring at the licking flames. "Lils, no! That's so obvious as to be daft--"

"He's the most powerful Wizard alive! Our Secret would be perfectly safe with him, no one would dare attack him!"

Harry let out a keening wail in protest to Lily's raised voice.

"Oh bunny, I'm so sorry to have scared you, it's OK, come come let's go lie down, shall we?" She cuddled Harry close to her breast as he hid his tiny scrunched-up face in her shoulder. Her gaze fell on James, sitting still with his head in his hands, and at Sirius, who stood with fists and jaw clenched. "I'm going to put Harry down for his nap," she said quietly. "We will discuss this later after he's asleep." She moved off with Harry, disappearing into the mist of memory, Harry still sobbing and gasping in her arms.

Sirius and James did not move for a minute after Lily and Harry left. Then Sirius moved to sit in Lily's place on the sofa, shaking James' shoulder.

"I'll do it," he announced. "I'll be your Secret Keeper."

At that James looked up, his glasses askew, his face pale and normally warm hazel eyes bleak. "That's even more daft than asking Dumbledore, Padfoot."

"Why? I'm your best friend, I'm the logical choice--"

"Precisely. Voldemort and the Death Eaters will expect that. Soon as they hear it they'll search for you."

"Prongs, I'm a good Wizard and I know what I'm doing--"

"NO, Sirius!" James shouted, and Sirius winced. "I know for a fact Lils won't allow it, for just that reason. And neither can I." James' voice was firm. "Because they will come after you and I--" James faltered, looking away. "I couldn't bear to lose you," he finished, barely above a whisper.

Sirius looked away too for a moment, down at his hands in his lap. "They'll come after me anyway no matter what I do." He jumped up again and began to pace in front of James.

"Will you stop pacing, you berk?" James snapped. "You're not helping me think."

Both men turned their heads at a far-off wail from the direction of Harry's bedroom, followed by Lily's alto shushing tones.

The wail subsided and their eyes met. Sirius' eyes softened, and he knelt down in front of James, grasping his hands. "Look mate, I know I'm the obvious choice, but I'm also your best bet," he said earnestly. "You know I will never betray you and Lily and Harry. You know I'd die first, by my own hand if necessary."

James nodded and sighed heavily. "I know." He squeezed Sirius' hands back. "That's what scares me." He released Sirius to run his hands through his hair again. "Say, what about Remus then? He's a right good Wizard and he's aces at keeping secrets of all kinds, hell I don't even know what he's doing for the Order now--"

"NO." Sirius scowled. "Not Remus."

Present-day Remus, observing frozen in place, winced at the vehemence in Sirius' voice. He stole a look at present-day Sirius, who was watching oddly impassively, arms folded and lips pursed tightly together; but his cheeks coloured with something that Remus realized was embarrassment. He drew his attention back to the tableau before him.

"Why not?"

"Precisely because he's so good at keeping secrets," Sirius snapped, and present-day Remus felt a shot of pain stab right through him at the bitterness in his voice. James nodded slowly in understanding, and present-day Remus couldn't help but feel hurt at that too, even though he knew it was only the stress and despair of the time pressing down on all of them. Across from him, present-day Sirius at least had the good grace to look ashamed.

James tensed and looked ready to strike out. "For fuck's sake, Padfoot, who the hell is left then?" He jumped up, knocking Sirius off-balance onto his arse on the floor. Not caring, James paced around himself. "This is enough to drive me right around the twist!" he said, his voice close to breaking. "Lils and Harry and me all Voldemort's targets, having to scurry and hide like scared mice from the Death Eaters instead of fighting like honourable Wizards—fucking Merlin!"

His voice broke then, and he slumped inwards. Sirius caught him just before he fell to the floor and hugged him fiercely, pulling James' head to his shoulder. James shook for a minute in Sirius' arms, then broke the embrace, wiping his face and laughing bitterly. "Bloody hell, who needs Voldemort when we have this, yeah? I'll be a right nutter yet."

Sirius shook his head. "No, Prongs. I think I know who can do it."

"Who?"

Remus watched present-day Sirius and young Sirius murmur the name at the same time.

"Peter."

James stared at him, mouth slack in shock for a full minute before comprehension began to dawn.

"Think of it, Prongs! Who'd ever suspect Peter? He's loyal to you, to Lily and to Harry, and even better, he's not a powerful Wizard at all. He's no real target, not like us. The Death Eaters and Voldemort will think you'd choose me, or Dumbledore. No one would ever think you'd choose Peter. He's perfect!"

James nodded. "It could work--" he began slowly.

"Even better if we make it look like I'm the Secret Keeper. Peter himself goes into hiding, he's good at that even without Fidelius, he's a rat Animagus for Merlin's sake, he knows how to lie low. So they come after me and leave Peter alone. It's brilliant, James! At the very least I'll take as many flaming Death Eaters as I can with me when I go down fighting."

James winced at that again, but otherwise looked thoughtful. "Lily might even buy that," he mused. "You know she'll prefer Dumbledore over you, but if it's Peter...Sirius, you're a bloody genius." He grabbed Sirius by the arms and kissed him solidly on his forehead before leaning his forehead against Sirius'. "You're a real mate, Padfoot."

Lily came back into the room then, looking frazzled but determined. "So who do we choose as Secret Keeper then?"

_"Satis."_


	2. Chapter 2

_  
There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout   
'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out--   
And these mistakes you make you'll just make them again  
If you only try turning around..._

The scene froze in front of present-day Remus and Sirius, James, Lily and young-Sirius as still as statues.

"This is it," Sirius murmured to himself, and Remus' heart clenched at the sight of the tracks of tears on his haggard face. "This is where I went wrong." He stared down at the book. From Remus' viewpoint, the space above the page began to swirl with golden shimmering light.

Remus blinked back tears of his own, his mind racing. Oh dear Merlin, this was why Sirius carried so much guilt. He had convinced James, who in turn convinced Lily, setting everything in motion, he'd known that but had never thought--No wonder Sirius wanted to make amends, no wonder he wanted to go back and change things...

Remus opened his mouth but no sound came out and he realized he was still under the Silencing charm. In the meantime though he had slowly managed to work one hand free of the freezing charm; surreptitiously he clenched the wand deep in the pocket of his robe and thought the counter-charms. When he opened his mouth again he was able to utter a strangled word.

"Sirius--" he began.

Sirius looked up from the book, his face livid. "Don't. Don't even try. You don't know--"

"I've seen enough that I think I can guess." Remus tested his leg, and found he was able to move. He took a small step forward, spreading his hands outward in a placating gesture. "Padfoot, think of what you're going to do. You're going to go to the past to change something that you think led to this particular situation."

"I love how you state the obvious, Remus," Sirius said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Remus raised his wand at him. "I can't let you do it."

Sirius tensed, then raised his own wand at him. "A Wizarding duel, Remus? Do you think that will stop me?"

"You know for a fact we're evenly matched. And you know I will engage if I have to." Remus' words were very soft, but the flint behind them was real. "Please don't make me."

Sirius stepped out from behind the lectern and advanced a step towards Remus. "If you stop me," he said, "you will destroy this chance for a new world, with James and Lily still alive, with Harry--"

"You don't know that."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You don't know it won't happen."

"Sirius, think of all the choices you have available, you don't need to choose this--"

"People like us," Sirius shouted, "don't have any choices!" He fired his wand at the ceiling to drop an invisible barrier between himself and Remus.

"I don't believe that."

"All your choices were ripped away the night you were bitten, Remus," Sirius spat; his eyes held steady as Remus flinched with the truth of the statement. "How dare you lecture me about choices when you never had any to begin with?"

Remus willfully ignored the taunt. "But how will this help, Sirius? We can't re-live--"

"I can't live like this!"

"What about Harry?"

There it was: His and Dumbledore's trump card. The fallback. The means to manipulate Sirius.

"I'm doing this _for_ Harry," Sirius whispered, pleading. "Remus—to have James and Lily here, for him. His parents can do more for him than any of us, all of us put together. Them _vs._ me as a parent, it's not that hard of a choice, yeah?" His voice hardened to flint. "It's not like he keeps in touch with me anymore either, y'know?"

Remus' heart chilled at the emptiness in that statement. Sirius was not going to let himself be manipulated with the Harry factor anymore.

"You know all communication in and out of Hogwarts is being monitored--"

"He has James' mirror, you tosser! He's not even using that!"

Remus flinched and closed his eyes, trying to think of another placating excuse.

"I'm sure it's only because--"

"Stop making excuses, Remus." His voice was short and tight.

"All right then," Remus said hoarsely, the flint in his eyes hardening to diamond. "Think of this, Sirius. Think of this for one fucking second before you decide to condemn the rest of us to hell. Because that is what you are going to do when you go back. Do you really think that you will change Halloween 1981, or everything that happened afterwards? You might. You might bring James and Lily back. Or more likely you'll just make everything worse. I may hate what's happening now, but I would rather have this than what would happen if you change everything."

Sirius stepped right up to him, breathing heavily in his face. "How—how _dare_ you imply that I would deliberately destroy--"

"Because I _know_ you, Sirius, you do not think ahead to the consequences of your actions!" Remus reached out through the barrier and seized Sirius' arms. "Think of it. _Think of it._ Going back to convince James not to use Peter, even outing Peter as the spy to the Order, will not change a bloody thing in the end. Because Peter will _still betray them_! And if he doesn't, you can damn well bet someone else would! If you don't fix Peter, all going back will do is make this world—make this world--"

Remus faltered, trying to collect his racing thoughts. In front of him, Sirius was seething, ready to explode. He had one chance—only one chance to get this right.

"Look, Sirius, whatever made Peter choose to betray James and Lily, it happened long before Godric's Hollow, probably years before. Something that happened, that we are probably not even aware of. So you go back and change your choice. But your choice was only part of what contributed to their deaths. It was Peter's decision that was more important. _Peter's_, not yours!"

A look of complete shock crossed Sirius' face.

"You do not bear all the blame for this. Peter's choice to betray them is what killed James and Lily," Remus repeated, more softly, his voice trembling wildly. "Not yours."

Sirius stared at him for several heartbeats before his face hardened. "You're just saying that because Dumbledore wants you to."

"No, Sirius, I'm saying it because it is true."

The resulting silence filled the attic. Sirius' jaw twitched as he thought but otherwise Remus could not fathom what was going through his mind.

"So if you had to choose between me and Dumbledore--"

It was Remus' turn to gape at Sirius at the sudden change of topic. "What the hell does that have to do with the Book? I'm not getting into that argument with you--"

"--Who would you choose?"

"That's not fair--"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CHOOSE!" Sirius' voice reverberated through the attic.

As if on cue, downstairs, Mrs Black started screaming in shrill counterpoint, voice carrying all the way to the attic as clear as a bell.

"Worthless SCUM! Abomination of my loins, spilling your vile seed sodomizing with half-bloods and MONSTERS--"

"Oh bloody HELL!" Remus yelled. "Sirius, stay here and DON'T MOVE."

For extra insurance he uttered a Binding spell, anchoring Sirius' feet firmly to the attic floor. Sirius stood white and shaking as Remus turned on his heel and sprinted downstairs to the front hall to silence the portrait.

"YOU!" the portrait shrieked. "YOU! Defiler of my son, master of perversion--"

"I thought Sirius was no longer your son, Mrs. Black," he said smoothly, a far lucid corner of his mind amazed at how he still could remain polite to the old hag despite everything. Without further ado he wrenched the curtains closed again, adding a Zipper charm to keep them closed.

Remus limped back upstairs to the attic as fast as he could, afraid of what might have happened--he knew Sirius could break out of the Binding spell if he wanted, finish the incantations for the Book of Days and change his world, their world, forever.

But while Sirius still stood glowering and audibly seething, he hadn't moved an inch. Remus felt a surge of relief at that; hopefully he had reached him after all.

Remus murmured the Releasing spell; Sirius stumbled a bit, then recovered his footing.

"Remus what the hell--"

"Shut up, Sirius."

Both men blinked at that.

Remus drew in a huge breath, then let it out in a shuddering sigh. "You asked if I would choose between you and Dumbledore. All right then. I owe Dumbledore everything. He gave me a chance, a—a choice, when no one else would dare." Remus' voice was unapologetic.

Sirius visibly deflated and turned away, dark head bowed, shoulders stiffening. "I suppose that's it, then," he whispered, voice breaking a bit at the end; he turned on his heel and went back to the lectern. He picked up and clutched the Book to his chest, and it began to glow with a suffuse gold light. His voice trailed off. "I'm so sorry--"

"But he also gave me you."

Remus saw Sirius stop short at that; his body tensed around the Book, as if waiting for more. Remus licked his lips, weighing the importance of his next words. If he didn't pick them correctly, he knew Sirius would finish the Book of Days charm.

"Dumbledore gave me you, and James, and Peter. He--he allowed me to find things I thought I would never have. To have choices that by all reasoning I should never have been allowed to have because of what I am."

Sirius cocked his head with a defiant jerk; but Remus knew that despite himself, he was listening.

"I choose not to be bitter because even with everything that's happened, even--even with all the pain and loneliness after Halloween 1981 I had a few brilliant years of hope and happiness before then. With you, and James, and yes, even with Peter. Enough to cling to, enough to sustain me through the dark times." Remus sighed again. "I have some semblance of it now, here, even in this hell, because--"

Sirius barked a sharp, bitter, disbelieving laugh at that. "Are you sure you and I live in the same house, Moony? Though I agree you certainly got the hell part right."

Remus' voice hardened perceptibly. "We fucked up our choices the last time, yes Sirius, we did. We will always continue to pay for those, probably until we die." His voice softened again, imploring. "But we also have this second chance because of them. A second chance! Surely that must be worth something to you? They don't come often, Sirius, if ever."

"Second chance?" Sirius spat. "Have your senses taken leave of you, man? A second chance at prison is more like. God damn it, Moony! Haven't you noticed--"

"I HAVE A SECOND CHANCE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING GREAT GIT!" Remus shouted above Sirius' protest. His voice lowered to almost nothing, shaking with the effort to control it. "Doesn't that even count to you?"

Sirius whirled around at that, utterly flabbergasted.

Remus ran a violently trembling hand through his shaggy greying hair, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "For twelve years I thought, I believed, that you betrayed us all. You were my friend and I hated you. I wanted you to suffer in Azkaban, I wanted you to rot and die there for what you did." Sirius stood aghast at that admission. "Then in the Shack I learned that what I thought was true, was not, and--oh fucking Merlin, do you know how much that revelation meant to me? It was a gift! Then last June, you came back--you came back, to re-form the Order, to—to me."

Remus' voice did break then; he inhaled sharply, and his tone grew harsh with barely suppressed emotion. "I know what my version of hell is like, Sirius, and it's being utterly alone." He laughed himself, short and cynical. "Even now I think sometimes that all this will be ripped away, that you'll be ripped away, and I'll be alone again for the rest of my life. But I know better now--I know now to hold on to what I have, for as long as I can. And oh dear Merlin, that is YOU, you great sodding plonker, whether you like it or not. So stop being so bloody _selfish_."

Remus' voice softened. "I have my obligations to fulfill with Dumbledore. I can't renege on those. I have no choice there. But as far as my other choices go around those, I will always choose to stay in this hell with you over anything else. Always. Even though we can't go forward right now, and we certainly can't go back, as much as we would want to."

He moved closer, until he stood right in front of Sirius, and laid both his hands on his shoulders, gazing into Sirius' face. "But we will go forward together when the time comes, Sirius, I promise you that. You will not be left behind. We will. Go. Together."

They stared at each other, Remus earnest, Sirius' expression unreadable.

"I've opened the Book, Remus, I can't destroy it by myself," Sirius said finally.

Remus nodded. Sirius had made his choice then. "I know. That's why we need to close it now."

Remus pointed his wand at the book clutched against Sirius' chest. James, Lily and young-Sirius regarded him with a sad, knowing look. Remus swallowed.

_Goodbye, my friends._

As if on cue, the figures of James, Lily and young-Sirius faded into the gloom of the attic.

Then Remus looked up at Sirius. Sirius stared at the yellow glow of the Book in his arms, a faint but caustic sun cutting through the darkness. Sirius also swallowed and blinked rapidly.

"I was so close--" his voice trailed off with regret. He appeared to pull the book closer into his body.

"For once in your life, Sirius, think this through!" Remus' voice was urgent, pleading. "You have only one chance. If you're wrong you condemn all of us to a fate worse than what we have now. Including Harry. Including _Harry._ Can you afford to be wrong about that?"

Sirius stared at him, his eyes open, but shuttered. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

He slowly raised the Book above his head.

Remus turned away with a choked sob. He couldn't bear watching--

"_Wingardium leviosa!_"

Remus whirled around to see Sirius fling the Book into the air. The Book hovered in the middle of the attic. Whipping his wand out from his belt, Sirius aimed it at the Book. "_Incendio!_"

The Book simply floated in the air, suspended, glowing red. Remus realized that one Wizard's magic wouldn't be enough to conquer it.

"Remus--" Sirius said, imploring.

Remus brandished his wand straight at the book. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silver-thin whisp shot from his wand towards the Book, engulfing it in a cool embrace. Sirius stared at Remus for a split-second, eyebrow raised.

_"Elabere ex oculis!" _ both men shouted, wands pointing straight at the Patronus wrapped around the Book.

Shots of hot blue energy burst from both wands, enveloping the Book and the Patronus in a shimmering net. The Book glowed white within the Patronus, its light pulsing within the blue, then exploded with a shower of blood-red sparks. Almost immediately it then vaporized to ash within the silver Patronus web, leaving only faint traces of ash to drift onto the dusty planks of the attic floor.

The remains of the Patronus whisped away as the ashes fell. Silence closed in around them for several moments, the only sounds that of two men trying to control their breathing. Remus' heartbeat roared in his ears. Sirius stared at the space where the Book had hovered, remnants of a lost destiny, and shook slightly, his chest heaving with exertion. Then his shoulders slumped, his eyes closed, and he looked more lost and uncertain than Remus had ever seen him.

The silence grew louder, more oppressive. Standing apart, in the face of this newest defeat, Remus closed his eyes for a moment to clear his racing thoughts, and to ponder what he could possibly do to help. He was truly at a loss now. Compared to the promise held within the now-destroyed Book of Days, anything he had to offer would more than pale, it would mean nothing. Anything he could offer would be only empty comfort, meaningless, and he hated it, but it was really all he had left. He held out his hand anyway.

"Come on, Sirius."

Sirius flinched, and Remus winced himself at the triteness in the soft entreaty. Remus knew though it was all he had left to offer; comfort in the only way he knew how. He only hoped that Sirius would take it as it was meant--

"It's the middle of the afternoon. I'm not tired."

Remus recoiled inwardly at the dead tone in his friend's voice. He was going to be stubborn and fight. Dammit. Remus wasn't tired either, not really, although he felt the familiar monthly weariness threaten to creep over his limbs; the full moon was only a couple of days away.

"We don't have to do anything you know--"

"Yeah, right." Sirius attempted to leer but it was only half-hearted; it still cut Remus to the quick.

"It's too early to get drunk anyway," Remus tried again, eying the near-empty flagon sitting on its side in the corner; its golden liquid trickled into a small pool soaking up the sawdust. "Assuming you've even left any to get legless on."

A shadow flitted over his face, but Sirius didn't move; he stood still frozen to the spot, wary, his fists clenched, ready and tensing for a fight that Remus had no intention of giving him.

"Shagging can't solve a bloody thing, Moony," he finally said, oddly defeated; his shoulders slumped even further if that were possible.

"No it can't," Remus agreed softly.

"It's not even an escape anymore."

"Neither is Firewhisky when you look at it."

Sirius' head bowed and his shoulders shook a little in silent acknowledgment. Remus wondered if he were shaking from weeping, because God knew he felt like crying himself now, and he hated himself for feeling it. But then he heard the familiar bark-like laugh; when Sirius raised his head, his cheeks were dry, though his eyes were dull.

"I suppose Dumbledore approves of your choice of methods to keep me docile," Sirius stated with a faint twisted grin; though the smile on his lips didn't nearly touch his eyes.

"Do you think I'm only here at Dumbledore's bidding?" His own eyes held steady.

Sirius arched an unbelieving eyebrow. "You're here at his obligation. You said so yourself."

Remus stepped forward until they stood flush against each other, in the path of dust motes illuminated by the sun slotting through the bitten and draughty holes in the rafters, and took Sirius' hands in his. He tried not to think how cold or dead-feeling those hands were.

"I don't think even Dumbledore's patience could tolerate your stubbornness," Remus snorted with a matching wry grin. "But I'm here because I'm your friend, you insufferable wanker. And if I am going to be here in the middle of the day alone in the house with you, I fancy a shag." He tried to sound casual about it, knowing he was failing miserably.

The answering silence stretched out a little too long. "We can't go back," Sirius said finally, shrugging. "I guess any excuse for a fuck is a good one these days." He turned his face away. "Even if it doesn't do anything in the end."

Remus flinched, but couldn't answer him because he knew it was true.

All he could do was show him that it could still matter—even if only for a while.

So instead, he closed the distance between them, reaching out to turn Sirius' face back toward him; lips and skin met softly, brushes and rasps of stubble scraping each other's cheeks. He slipped his arms around Sirius' waist, drawing him against his body, willing some sort of warmth to envelop them; he felt Sirius' arms fold around him, albeit reluctantly, in return, and Remus heard a shuddering sigh as Sirius rested his forehead on Remus' shoulder. They held each other close in the shadow of the attic, listening to the old house seethe and sigh around them, stirring the blood-red ashes of the Book, now ice-cold and forever unable to hold sway over Sirius now.

After several long minutes of heartbeats and shaking breaths, Remus linked their fingers together and he squeezed Sirius' hand as he led him out of the attic. They slowly descended the stairs to their bedroom, leaving the empty flagon, the remnants of the Book of Days and the mirror to the endless dust.

Inside their shared room, with only the muted light of the winter sun glowing through the crack between the curtains over the window, he pulled Sirius against him, framing his thin face in his long elegant hands to kiss him again; this time hard and long and demanding, feeling Sirius' reluctance beneath the insistent probing of his lips and tongue. But slowly, so slowly, Sirius parted his lips to grant Remus entrance, bringing his hands to rest on Remus' shoulders. Though he did not actively return the kisses himself, choosing to remain passive, a stubborn participant.

_A pity fuck is still a pity fuck._

Remus knew Sirius was still, after all, thinking of the Book. This paled in comparison, Remus knew, but it was all they had left. They both knew at the heart it was unwilling, sex was just a way to pass the interminable time. In the end it wouldn't matter anyway, it wouldn't change things--it wouldn't move them forward any further, it would just keep them in place.

Even so, Remus took his time, his heart aching, willing only that Sirius find some brief respite in what they were doing, maybe something approaching solace as he methodically undressed him. Robes, shirt, trousers, pants, dropped to the floor in ragged pools; he did not use magic, for there was no magic in this, just mourning. Sirius let Remus undress him, unresisting, though Sirius' quicksilver eyes followed Remus' movements as Remus shucked his own clothing.

For a long, aching moment their eyes followed each other's Book of Days that fate had inscribed on their bodies, until Remus closed the distance again with skating hands and searching fingers. No words. There were no words either could utter in the face of this--

"Remus--" Sirius began.

"Hush," he replied, laying a finger against his lips. "It's all right."

Remus slowly lowered Sirius onto the unmade bed then clambered on beside him. The mattress sank, gave with their weight; the smells of musty sweat and past sex on the sheets embraced them, mocking them with their ironic hints of older, happier tumbles. Remus spread Sirius' legs and flexed his knees, kneeling between to coax him to full hardness with his mouth and tongue; hearing and clinging to the ragged catch of breath that all but assured Sirius' full attention, if not willing participation quite yet.

Cupping Sirius' hips, he drew him all the way in as Sirius twitched and hardened in his mouth. Nuzzling and inhaling the familiar, arousing yet comforting smell of Sirius' hair and sweat, Remus felt that in an odd way, despite the utter defeat that suffused this whole encounter, that this was strangely like coming home; he was home, even in the despair of Grimmauld Place, and he needed to bring Sirius back home too.

Whispering an oft-used spell, his hands slid from Sirius' hips to his buttocks to spread them apart; sliding his fingers in, he prepared Sirius with slick gentle thrusts, brushing in long and languorous movements in time with his lips and tongue. He felt Sirius writhe in agonized pleasure despite himself, long lashes fluttering closed under Remus' ministrations, his hips moving to meet Remus' mouth; Remus felt one hand rest on his head to caress the shell of his ear.

Too soon, not soon enough, withdrawing his fingers and his mouth, Remus straightened; facing Sirius, still kneeling between his legs, Remus slowly slid his palm down Sirius' trembling body from neck to groin, gazing steadily into those pale tortured eyes as Sirius' chest heaved in tortured anticipation. Then Remus gripped his hips and nudged against him, slowly but surely pushing inside. A strangled groan escaped as Sirius relaxed suddenly to let him in; Remus slid in deep and Remus gasped himself as tight hot muscles clenched around him.

Oh Merlin... This was where their choices had led, good and bad, all to this--this was home, this was where he belonged, Remus knew now, if he'd ever had any doubt before; beside and inside Sirius, seeking his shelter and his refuge here in and with him. This was where Sirius belonged, too, in the end; under him, around him, in every pore of his being. Wrapped together like this, the last men standing, was the sum of all their choices, whether they wanted them or not.

Letting go of Sirius' hips, leaning over and supporting himself above him on his elbows, Remus watched anguish war with bliss on those wan, once-beautiful features. Words unconsciously formed on Remus' lips in silent entreaty: _please accept this, let this happen, lose yourself_.

_Come back home._

Sirius' eyes opened suddenly as if he'd heard the silent prayer, staring right at Remus; his eyes glittered desperately, at some level still unwilling to give in to this, trying to maintain his stubborn defiance even as Remus felt Sirius throbbing with need between them. But slowly, eventually, under Remus' insistent lips and tongue and gentle hands tracing trails over his heated flesh, Sirius' eyes darkened, finally letting go.

Sirius arched his head back to bare his throat in submission, arching up, sliding one hand between their bodies to stroke himself as need won out and desire took over. Thrusting slowly, Remus nuzzled the exposed pale skin on his neck, tasting the wildly pounding flutter of his heartbeat, and brushed an index finger across Sirius' kiss-swollen lips. Sirius drew the finger into his mouth, suckling on it as he reached for Remus' free hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing painfully, holding on.

Their rhythm matched and quickened with each rocking thrust of their hips, no words between them, only groans and gasps and jouncing bedsprings to urge them on and carry them through. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth clamped down around Remus' finger and drawing on it with a fierce longing; _fill me, make me forget._ Remus closed his eyes too, unable to bear watching Sirius come undone like this--fighting back the despair of Grimmauld Place, protesting this unending loneliness by coupling with Remus against the false cheeriness of a winter afternoon--rather than celebrating in the embrace of past hopes of the Book of Days.

The pressure in Remus' groin built, grew unbearable, but Remus struggled to hold back until he felt Sirius contract around him and seize beneath him; feeling rather than hearing the desperate moan around his finger and the sticky slide of anguished release between their bellies. Only then did Remus allow himself to let go, to forget and just _feel_, Sirius crushing his hand and bearing down hard as Remus came deep inside him with a shudder and a choked cry.

_Release was all they had left._

Sliding out, rolling onto his side and clinging to Sirius as he slowly remembered to breathe, Remus opened his eyes to watch Sirius remain in the thrall of the afterglow for the moment before resting his temple against Sirius' shoulder.

"It's all right," Remus spoke at last, murmuring against Sirius' damp hair; it could never be all right, not here; he hated the lie but tried to maintain some sense of its illusion, for both their sakes. "It's all right, Padfoot."

Sirius drew back slightly, glassy-eyed, hearing the words but not quite understanding them. Remus knew that at some level, Sirius knew the lie too but he would not call him on it just yet. Because when Sirius did--

So quickly, before he was forced to witness Sirius' return to the reality of Twelve Grimmauld Place--before he was forced to witness that brief sated contentment dissolve again, those beloved cloud-grey eyes harden to flint and that now-relaxed face set to stone--Remus drew Sirius back down and tightened his arms around him, tucking his dark head in the sweaty curve between his neck and shoulder. Relying only on his immense strength of will to keep the world away for just a little while longer, he tugged up the blankets around them in a flimsy makeshift cocoon; he stroked his shoulders, smoothed his tangled hair, as Sirius nuzzled the sweet-salty skin just below Remus' ear.

Remus lay watching the afternoon shadows flow across the whorls of the yellowing ceiling until he felt the slow even breathing of sleep against his neck; then he sighed himself, one long sad exhale. How he wanted this to last, just to stay and hold and watch Sirius sleep, oh Merlin did he want--

Instead Remus carefully and unwillingly disentangled himself from the closed circle of Sirius' embrace, rose from the bed and dressed swiftly, unable to bear prolonging the inevitable any longer.

Sirius stirred, eyes fluttering open briefly to look at Remus with resignation, then closing again; Remus knew Sirius was only feigning sleep now as he watched him burrow his face deeper into the pillow. Remus fastened the robe clasp at his neck; biting his lower lip, he lowered his hand, lightly smoothed his friend's hair, the words _I'm sorry_ forming silently on his lips. _I'm sorry you are here, I'm sorry I have to leave you, I'm sorry you couldn't go back and I'm sorry I had to stop you—_Sirius tensed under his touch, but otherwise did not protest. Oh God—then Remus reluctantly let him go, his heart heavy.

He should stay for Sirius, he knew; Merlin knew they both needed it, more so than any sex they could have. But this was how it had to be for both of them now. Neither had any illusions about duty, or order, or obligation.

This was what they got from the choices they had made, even if it wasn't what they deserved.

So, helplessly, he left the darkening room, to leave the house, back to the Hebrides and duty as always, and tried not to wonder--had he been in Sirius' place and holding the Book of Days in his hands--if he would not have done exactly the same thing.


End file.
